Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from France and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1963 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing Anthony Braxton to the techno kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by The Royal Family And The Poor. All the underground hits.
All Country Joe & The Fish tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marvin Gaye record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mr. Review record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Boogie Down Productions,
Intrusion,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Erykah Badu,
Underground Resistance,
Desert Stars,
MC5,
Essential Logic,
A Certain Ratio,
Glenn Branca,
Q65,
Ralphi Rosario,
Popol Vuh,
the Bar-Kays,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Crime,
Avey Tare,
Pantytec,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Ken Boothe,
The Blackbyrds,
X-Ray Spex,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Joyce Sims,
Albert Ayler,
The Mojo Men,
Model 500,
Harry Pussy,
Boredoms,
CMW,
Deakin,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Scientists,
Fluxion,
The Names,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Maleditus Sound,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Mandrill,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Neil Young,
Robert Wyatt,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
James White and The Blacks,
Soulsonic Force,
Traffic Nightmare,
Mr. Review,
Pussy Galore,
Oneida,
Minnie Riperton,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Jesper Dahlback,
Bob Dylan,
The Five Americans,
Jeff Mills,
Babytalk,
The Victims,
The Misunderstood,
Dual Sessions, Dual Sessions, Dual Sessions, Dual Sessions.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.